


Descent Into Madness

by Emachinescat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Gen, Spoilers, Supernatural - Freeform, s3e01 The Tears of Uther Pendragon Pt. 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-27
Updated: 2010-10-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He can feel the dreaded iciness moving slowly through his body, freezing his blood, paralyzing him." - Uther's descent into madness, drabble. A voice is calling to him from within a well. "You killed her. She should kill you now." *set during 3-1*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent Into Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own, this is just for entertainment purposes. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

He hears someone calling his name. The voice is neither male nor female, young nor old, alive nor dead. It is simply there, totally foreign but achingly familiar at the same time. A paradox. How quaint.

It says his name again, this time with more urgency. He shivers—from fear, from heartache, from pure, giddy ecstasy, he does not know.

"Who's there?" he demands, his voice weak and pitiful. He feels something gnawing at his insides, a raw, cold, nameless… _something_  sliding into his heart and flowing through his veins.

_It's so cold._

He can feel the dreaded iciness moving slowly through his body, freezing his blood, paralyzing him.

His name is called again.

There is a well. The voice is echoing across the cobblestone yard from the well.

A well?

He forces his body to move slowly, inching marginally toward that well.

He hesitantly, cautiously, peers over the edge into the black abyss.  _A bottomless pit of terrifying, unknown darkness._  It is wet down there.

Nothing.

The well is empty.

The feeling grips him tighter, the ice in his heart and veins infesting his brain, driving that horribly foreboding emotion into every nerve, every muscle in his body.

He tries to laugh it off, tries to turn back. He should return to…to wherever it was that he had come from. He can't remember, only that his mind had been foggy and he had come out here. Somehow he had wound up at this well, peeking into the horribly dark hole after a voice that may or may not have been real had called his name.

He turns to walk away, to escape this nightmare, this unfamiliar, raw, powerful,  _deadly_  feeling that he just  _cannot_ identify that is coursing through his being. He is stopped, though, when something catches his wrist.

_A wet, freezing, death-like hand gripping him._

He gasps, his breath catching, a new wave of that emotion washing down the back of his neck and swirling angrily in his churning stomach. He has realized what he is feeling now—pure, uncontested, unbridled  ** _FEAR_**.

He turns his head and locks eyes with the person clinging to his arm. He hears someone screaming, realizes that it is he who is screaming. Another yell breaks through his throat, tearing at his vocal cords and renting through the night. He tries to pull free. She holds on tight, pleading,  _begging_  for him to help her…

_Marble-white skin, cold, so cold…sweat and water beading that flawless complexion, blonde hair messy and strands of it stuck to her moist forehead…and those eyes—pale blue, almost translucent orbs…bloodshot…they are accusing, terrified, angry…vengeful…_

He hadn't seen that face in twenty-three years. He had longed to beholder again for years, but now…

You killed her.

_No._

Murderer.

_No. I love her._

You've killed so many.

_No._

She should kill  _you_  now.

**_NO!_ **

It isn't her. It' can't be her.

_She's dead._

"Ygraine?"

Fear…and madness.


End file.
